


hanging by a thread

by sofarsoperfect



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Suicide, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofarsoperfect/pseuds/sofarsoperfect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac's favorite phrase for smoking is 'I'm gonna go kill myself a little' and waving a cigarette around before walking out the door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hanging by a thread

**Author's Note:**

> because if anyone is going to start smoking, it's going to be Isaac and he's not going to give a shit, except for the parts where he hopes it might actually kill him one day

Isaac had his first cigarette a month after Erica was found. Derek had bought it for him because he had had been there, thought Isaac would give it up once he realized it wouldn’t change anything. But Isaac, he kept careful track of how many he had, how many he had left and when he would run out so he could bribe someone else into getting him some.

He ended up paying off one of the kids at school who had a regular buyer to keep getting him some. He kept them in his bag and took long drags when he needed them.

He smoked an entire pack in a week when Boyd died. An entire pack in a day when Allison did.

Stiles found out in their first year of college. Isaac pulled out a pack nonchalantly and stuck one between his lips, lighting it with ease. Stiles looked him over with pulled brows and confusion, Isaac sucking on the end and breathing out clouds of gray.

“Does that even do anything for you?” He asked and Isaac shrugged.

“No. I just like it.”

Stiles called him stupid and told him to kick it. And it wasn’t like Isaac was addicted, his werewolf side had a way of cutting that out before it could go anywhere. It wasn’t the tobacco or the nicotine that kept him spending almost seven dollars on two packs of Camel Crush Bold. He could throw away his packs if he ever wanted to stop, pretend he never even got started.

Except that Isaac was both a little suicidal and extremely passive aggressive.

Some days, he wished he was dead. Not by the hands of his long dead father, but because he wanted to end it. That he had finally picked up the courage and swallowed that bottle of Jim his father pretended he didn’t know was in the kitchen and the sleeping pills his dad took to ease the nightmares about his brother. That he had decided that death was easier than living a werewolf.

Now he had no choice, no going back to that and he smoked cigarettes one after the other, almost wishing it would wear down his system. That his regeneration and advanced healing would finally give up the ghost on trying to keep his poor, exhausted body alive and succumb to the smoke he swallowed down his lungs.

Every morning, he expected to get out of bed and end up having to cough ropes of mucus into the sink, the tar lining his throat replacing the way it was supposed to be. He hoped to have a smoker’s cough and blacken his lungs, but every day he awoke to the same disappointment.

Isaac was, however, addicted to the rush his system went through. His lungs fought the smoke every time he inhaled and the nicotine rushed through his system with the tobacco, giving him that fluttery feeling in his stomach and his head, like he was on a tall rollercoaster. His brain swam and lightened with every drag and he was thrilled by the feeling.

He knew that if Erica or Allison were there, they would urge him to put it down. The cigarettes wouldn’t do anything, wouldn’t bring them back or help him cope with the pain. He knew Allison suspected before she passed, but while he cut back, he could never put them down. Boyd would slap him upside the head and tell it to quit spending outrageous amounts of money on the minty bastards, but they weren’t there.

So Isaac strolled across campus to his next class, sucking on a cigarette and chatting with a fellow smoker from his Psych class, scratching it out on the bottom of his shoe on his way into the building.


End file.
